Me: "I got us Windows 7."

Paul: "Oh, okay, I'll install it soon.  Is there anything important we need to back up?"

Me: "I don't think so.  All the software I use is on my laptop."

Paul: "What about pictures?"

Me: "They're all backed up on my iPod."

Paul: "Oh, okay."

A text message, a few days ago:

Paul: "Installing Windows 7."

Another conversation, later that same day:

Paul: "He wanted music but I couldn't figure out how to get your iPod to work on the docking station."

Me: "It died after my trip to NY.  I thought it just lost it's charge but I plugged it in and nothing happened.  It may have bitten the dust."

A realization, later that night:

Me: Windows 7...iPod...photos...shit.

A relief, the next day:

Me: Okay, I burned CDs of all our photos from Oct 2007 to early Oct 2009...and this SD card starts at November 2009...which means we're only missing about 3 weeks worth of photos.  Oh, thank gawd.

You'd think that would be the end of the story, but that would be boring. 

An occurrence, the following day:

Paul: "FedEx delivered something."

Me: "Whee!  It's the Fisher-Price iXL learny-thingie that I won for Xander at BlogHer!  This thing is cool.  Look, you can put your own music and photos on it!  There's a SD card slot here.  That must be how you do it.  I'll just put one in so Xander can have pictures of himself!"

Me: "Hm, it doesn't seem to be working.  Maybe I should actually read the instructions.  Oh, you have to upload the photos using the USB cable.  The SD slot is just for extra memory.  It says, 'cards used for memory should not be used in other devices as they may become corrupt'."

Me: "..."

Me: "Wait, WHICH card did I just put in there?"

Paul: "Um...the one with the only remaining copy of all our photos from November of 2009 forward."

Honestly, it's like I'm TRYING to sabotage my own life for blog fodder. Even my subconscious thinks I'm in desperate need of something to write about.

(Most of the photos seem to be fine.  There are a couple that have become icons that resemble someone's scrinched-up constipated face.  I'm...sure they're fine.)

Yes, it's Tuesday.  No, I haven't re-designed the button yet.  Get off my case, geez.

*long-suffering sigh*

Anyway!  It's Tuesday.  Which, if you're new here, means it's time for Random Tuesday Thoughts.  They're thoughts that are random.  On a Tuesday.  Seems pretty straightforward to me.  Shall we begin?

This week's date night movie was Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.  I thought it was great.  But it was probably exclusively geared towards me and the other eight people who enjoy manga, music that sounds "early 90s alternative", and who played a lot of Street Fighter in their youth.

The bio-identical hormone cream that I'm taking (absorbing?) is definitely helping with the Crazy.  For instance, today I drove past the main city cemetary with no problem whatsoever.  The last time I did, I burst into tears thinking about my grandpa.

Which, y'know, would be normal, except that I hardly knew him - he died when I was two years old.  Also, I'm not entirely sure that he's even IN that graveyard.

So, yeah.  Definitely helping.

Also helping with the Lazy.  I'm definitely starting to think about getting back on a regular exercise schedule.

I'm not actually getting back on a schedule.  But thinking about it.  I may have even mentioned it aloud.

The charity kids album, Do Fun Stuff, that I posted about yesterday is the #1 selling kids album on iTunes.  Cool.

The most unfortunate logo ever.

Ever since I moved the blog I feel a little odd about it.  Like it's not quite "home".  I know, it's just fucking pixels, I'm a headcase. 

Maybe it's all those emails I'm getting with the subject line: geeeetttt ooouuuuttttt.

Eyelashes for your car.  Patent pending, you guys!

There is no auto-save on this blog interface.  Who wants to take bets on how long it takes me to lose an entire post?

GRraaaarrrggggghhhhhyaaaaaaaaaarrrrgggg.

...you heard me.

I think tomorrow I'm going to do us all a favor and just post something wordless.

Random up, you guys!

Do Fun Stuff is a "kids album for parents".  If you've ever cringed at the 300th repetition of a Barney jingle or gotten a bigger kick out of Feist's appearance on Sesame Street than you rightfully should have, this album is for you.  I mean, why can't we enjoy the same music as our 3-year-old?

(My favorite is Morton the Caterpillar.  I may like it a little too much.  What?  I keep hoping that someday I'll be the beautiful butterfly, okay?)

This album is the brainchild of Ryan at Pacing the Panic Room, who obviously has a lot of talented friends (all of the artists donated their time & music).  If you don't follow his blog, his oldest has Smith-Magenis Syndrome, a relatively under-researched developmental disorder.  100% of the proceeds will go to a grant fund that he's established for grad students who wish to make SMS their field of choice.  

If you click the monster below, you can preview the full album online as well as buy it on iTunes. If it's not your thing but you still want to help, there's a handy little 'donate' button.  You can also put the monster on your own blog, link to it on Facebook, or tweet using the hashtag #dofunstuff.

(Did I buy it?  Hells yes.  And I immediately put it on my kid's iXL learny-thingie to replace the obnoxious singing monkeys.  Nothing good can come of singing monkeys.)

For instance, we've learned that in order to maintain her physical perfection she needs to:

• not eat any flour or sugar
• get enough sleep
• administer an array of supplements and weird hippie remedies
• try to exercise every once in a while
• make a huge production out of stretching out properly when she does exercise, lest she throw out her back
• keep a small army of support staff on retainer, such as hairstylists, massage therapists, chiropractors, dentists, and estheticians
• try not to, um, outgrow all her clothes

And of course, our hero needs to work all those mundane tasks in around her larger missions, which are:

• be a good mother
• be a loving and responsive partner
• be a good reasonably present employee
• be a good friend
• be a responsible housekeeper and homeowner
• be some kind of daughter, granddaughter, neice, cousin, and aunt
• nurture her creative soul in some way

And of course, in all her spare time, SuperKeely tries to do some things that count as 'fun', like reading books or gardening.  Or blogging.

How does she do all that, class?  Well, she's SUPER, of course!

She's also completely fucking fictional. 

So, I think I've managed the move to Squarespace without leaving anybody behind and with only a few handfuls of my hair ripped out. 

If you're not reading this, I've obviously screwed up somewhere, and holy crap do I not even care right now.

But!  It's Tuesday!  And Tuesdays around the square space mean the same thing they did around Blogger - it's time to dump all your random thoughts into a post & call it good!  Ready?  Have at thee!

No, I didn't manage to re-do the RTT button.  It's still ugly.  And purple.  I'll fix it eventually.  Honest.

The "create post" screen for the space that is square is just as uninspiring as the last one.

Hubby and I went and saw Inception.

Um...at least I think we did.

If historical events had Facebook pages.

If you're viewing this in Internet Explorer, there are supposed to be cute little social media icons over there on the right where those broken links are.  They're responsible for at least two handfuls of hair that are missing from my head.  They work fine in Firefox.  You should just switch to Firefox, ok?

FoN is a champion of my "let's get Keely a new job already" campaign and regularly forwards me job postings that she thinks I'd be interested in.  She sent me this posting for a "Ben & Jerry's Brand Ambassador", joking that it is her dream job:

Would you like working for the top brands in the world?  Would you like helping consumers discover new products?  Would you like having an impact on a consumer's daily decisions? Do you love Health and Beauty? Are you someone who takes great care of themselves?   If you answered yes to these questions, we have the perfect job for you, read on!

We are in search for BEN AND JERRY'S ICE CREAM lovers who will be executing various events!! 

Successful ambassadors will be responsible to visit stores within a set territory, to sell and explain the benefits of this products. You will become the client's sales ambassadors, and responsible to vehicle brand awareness.

When I actually read the listing, I wondered what the fuck being "interested in health & beauty" and "taking great care of yourself" have to do with ICE CREAM.  

Oh, right.  Thats a euphemism for "are you a hot chick?". 

Hot chicks like ice cream too, you guys.

Popsicles shaped like handguns.  Look into it, Ben & Jerry.

Poll: Color in the two gossipy bitches in the right side of my header or leave them grey?

After my disappointing 8-hour round-trip to the gyno last week, I visited my new GP and she called my naturopath and we all conferred and stood on one foot and chanted a rain dance, and the upshot is that I now have a prescription for bio-identical progesterone cream.  It's like moisturizer.  With hormones in it.  The pharmacist suggested that it absorbs better into fatty tissue.

So, if nothing else, I'll have a well-moisturized ass.  And that's important too.

That is all.  Go forth, and be random.

(Edit: DAMMIT. Bit of a learning curve here. sorry for the lack of Linky, folks.)

You might be new here. Are you new here? If so, we do this thing on Tuesdays where we all get together and have a few drinks and then we all start spitting out what's on our mind as randomly as possible. It's fun, and it only came to blows that one time. Want to play? Grab a button and get random!

Why the fuck do I plant zucchini? It's really only good for ONE thing - chocolate cake.

(Well, and maybe some questionable pervy uses.)

I planted two this year and they're making the most of life. I have...a LOT of zucchini. There's no way I can make or eat that much cake. I ended up giving a bunch to the octogenarian next door.

(No word on which of those two uses she wanted them for.)

Actually, just do that anyway. That would be hilarious. And might make my dog step up her game a little.

Yes, I will also re-design the fugly RTT button while I'm at it. Gawd, stop nagging me.

(It'll still be fugly. It's kind of my thing.)

The camera does not lie.
(from poorlydressed.com)

Do you ever see the mailman coming up your walk, and you get all excited because he's got a whole fistful of mail and some packages, and then when you rush out to check the mailbox you realize that only ONE envelope was for you? And it's a bill?

I fucking hate that.

(I'm still allowed to bitch about my dog, the weather, infertility, and the government. NOW GET OFF MY LAWN.)

(Well, she was a woman, really. But in her head, she was still a girl.)

She was sort of creative and stuff, though she never thought much of it. She liked to draw pictures and write dorky things to entertain herself. Some good friends said to her, "Why don't YOU have a blog?"

After a few weeks days she decided that they weren't being sarcastic after all, so she birthed a new blog amongst the millions of others being born that day. As an afterthought, she made a second one.

She thought it was kind of fun, this blogging thing, and before she realized it she'd been doing it for almost TWO YEARS. There were weeks and months where she didn't feel she had much to say, but the people who lived inside her computer inspired her to keep going. She tried to keep things light and entertaining, because she'd always felt that as soon as something stopped being fun, it wasn't really worth doing.

(The exception being that lousy "job" thing, which a person is obliged to keep doing if they want to keep eating. And eating is fun, of course.)

Sometimes she'd have bad days, like everybody, and sometimes she felt she had to blog them. One day she had a REALLY bad day, the kind of day that just makes you want to bash your forehead into the bathroom mirror so that some part of you is bleeding, and she blogged about it.

And then something remarkable happened. All those people who lived inside her computer gave her hugs. They all knew exactly what to say so that she felt a little better. Maybe not "BETTER" better, but "it'll be okay, so chin up, soldier" better. And that's something.

She felt this whole "blogging" thing was pretty amazing, really. Either everybody on the internet was kind and supportive, or she'd somehow lucked into attracting the nicest, smartest, and most sensible readers around. She wasn't sure whether to hug them or punch them in the throat for making her cry, they were so sweet.

On the off chance she met them face to face some day, she thought she'd just say thank you.

This week I got up in the pre-dawn hours, got in my car and drove 4 hours to another city for my appointment with the doctor who would, according to the last naturopath I saw, fix my hormone issues with bio-identicals. So that I can get pregnant and have my own teeny bambino for other bloggers to NOM on at a future BlogHer conference.

(Note to self: don't try to be a hero, just stop and pee when you need to go, even if it doesn't coincide with your route plan. Because when you finally arrive at your predetermined pit stop, they may be changing the light fixtures in the bathroom, leaving you flapping your hands and whimpering and generally confirming that out-of-towners are batshit crazy.)

The gyno asked some standard questions, did a Pap smear, and checked to make sure that my uterus is where it should be. Then he told me that he didn't think the bio-identicals would do anything for me beyond easing the symptoms of menopause; that's all he prescribes them for. If I really want to get pregnant, he strongly recommends fertility drugs.

In case I haven't mentioned it, fertility drugs are not an option I'm interested in. I am trying to feel normal, not more insane. I think I've done enough synthetic hormonal damage to myself over the years; my body isn't currently manufacturing it's own hormones, so there's no guarantee I'd STAY pregnant. And if I did, I don't think I'm up to the challenge of potential twins, triplets, quadruplets - or their associated reality tv shows.

So I told him I'd think about it, and I got back in the trusty Honda and drove home, with my throat aching with unshed tears of frustration and only the GPS for company.

Go right. Go right. I said go right. Turn around if possible. Turn around, you barren witch.

I think she cut me some slack out of sympathy.

I liked last week's trip a whole lot better.

Oh, hello, Random Tuesday Thoughts. It seems like a million things have happened since we last spoke. Apparently, someone tells me, Random Tuesday Thoughts are "huge in the UK".

(Did you hear that? I'm huge in the UK. That is totally going on my resume. Right after tends to believe even the drunkenest ramblings if it at all resembles flattery.)

Blush. Modest wave.

So, let's start with this:

In related news: I cannot, apparently, party for many hours 3 nights in a row anymore. I...feel like I've failed you all.

Inadvisable: eating nothing but organic fruits & veggies for months, and then switching to a diet of nothing but flour, sugar, and red wine; going anywhere near Chicago O'Hare airport; thinking that I actually believe I'm "huge in the UK".

Advisable: going to a blogging conference at least once in your blogging career; meeting some of the online people that you feel you really click with, because you probably will; booking extra time in the host city if you actually want to see any of it. Which I didn't.

That's Becky, moi, Jenni, and Gretchen. Not pictured from our weekend posse: Casey, Mrsbear, and Andrea.

(Thank you Gretchen, for explaining that you almost never take a bad photo if it's from above. The double chin is still there, you just can't see it. Magic. Probably worth the price of admission.)

Oh, I forgot to mention that in the big pool with cliques and high school politics, there would also be a bunch of random people just GIVING you things. Here, have a necklace! Want some jeggings? Here's a whole box of Weebles!

But I knew I'd hit a low point with that when I had to answer not one, but THREE questions about tuna, and spin a wheel, all to receive...post-it notes. Post-its with the "Chicken of the Sea" logo on them.

I don't even LIKE tuna.

Also, I seem to have gone to NY with a horseshoe up my ass, because I won not only a pretty nice clutch purse, but a learning system from Fisher Price for my ingrate kid, and a $500 scholarship for another conference of my choice. Guess I've gotta do that again.

Blissdom, anyone?

Okay, I realize I haven't ALWAYS treated you this well. It's only been in the last 6 or 7 years that I've laid off the binge drinking, eaten proper food, and attempted to exercise on a regular basis. But it's not like I was loading you up with toxic waste before. Just...less food from the "organic farmer's market" group, and more from the "as appears on the pub menu" division.

So, I can forgive the sinusitis, and the gimpy back, and the ridiculously huge varicose vein. And I have been VERY PATIENT with this whole "peri-menopause/lack of hormones" thing.

But now, you have to add high cholesterol onto that? I'M THIRTY-SIX YEARS OLD, not sixty-three. I realize that it has to do with the estrogen that you're not producing, but still. I bet you thought it was funny when the doctor told me I should be "eating my vegetables" and "trying to exercise" and "avoiding fried foods", huh?

Well, fuck you, Body. This is as healthy as we're gonna get. And if you and your stupid high cholesterol end up giving us a heart attack? Who loses, huh, Body? WHO?

Lovingly,
The Management

PS - Thanks for making the gimpy back act up right before I'm supposed to get on a plane. Seriously, fuck you.